


Kitchen Floor

by tamakunchi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Breakups, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Short One Shot, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamakunchi/pseuds/tamakunchi
Summary: Listen to Kitchen Floor by All the Rest while reading for the full intended effect!
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Lee Taeyong & Suh Youngho | Johnny, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	Kitchen Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Kitchen Floor by All the Rest while reading for the full intended effect!

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave? On our anniversary?” Taeyong said weakly, his head spinning.

Johnny was standing in front of the door of their apartment, a duffel bag with the last of his things hanging on his shoulder. His face said everything and nothing all at once.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Taeyong. The constant fighting, the distance that’s growing between us. I don’t even feel like we have anything in common anymore,” Johnny said, his voice too calm for the scene playing out between the two of them.

“We’ve always known that we don’t have a lot in common, that’s what made things fucking interesting. Discovering things about each other and trying new things together,” Taeyong snapped, anger bubbling up in him now. “Why is that all of the sudden a fucking issue for you. Why now, after five fucking years, is this a deal breaker for you.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about…” Johnny said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in exasperation. “Everything is always a fight. I’m tired of it.”

“You’re fucking right this is a fight, I’m fighting for our fucking relationship. Because I don’t want to give up on us, I don’t want to give up on what we’ve been building for ye-” he cut off as the front door swung open, their roommate, Doyoung, walking into the middle of the battleground, completely unaware of what he’d just stumbled into.

“Hi guys…” he said awkwardly, staring back and forth between the two of them as he picked up on the emotions of the room. Taeyong crossed his arms and looked anywhere that wasn’t at Johnny or Doyoung as tears of frustration started pricking at his eyes. He heard Doyoung walk quickly to his room down the hall and close the door behind him, leaving him and Johnny in a painful silence.

The passing seconds felt like minutes, as Taeyong tried to collect himself and continue their conversation at a quieter level so Doyoung wouldn’t overhear yet another one of their arguments. He felt so guilty already that Doyoung had had to listen to their issues for years, the thin shared walls in their apartment sparing no details. He felt guilty that Doyoung never acted like anything was out of the ordinary, never made them feel bad for having witnessed them at their lowest points. 

Taeyong took another deep breath to calm himself, the air coming out shaky and unstable.

“Can we just talk about this tomorrow, please,” his voice feeble again, the tears now spilling onto his cheeks.

“I can’t,” Johnny said, equally as quietly, staring down at the floor.

Taeyong bit his lips, but he couldn’t stop the steady stream pouring out of his eyes, and his whole body started to tremble. He was digging his fingers into the soft flesh on the back of his arms, doing anything to distract from the ache in his chest that was rendering him speechless. They stood, unspeaking, unsure what to say anymore.

Finally, Johnny let out a sigh, of relief or defeat, Taeyong couldn’t tell, and turned around to walk out the door. His hand was reaching for the handle when Taeyong finally found his words again.

“Are you going back to him,” Taeyong muttered. The words felt like shards of glass in his chest and left the taste of battery acid on his tongue as he spoke them.

Johnny froze in place. He looked down, and let out another sigh.

“Goodbye, Taeyong,” he said without turning back, opening the door and seeing himself out of the home, the life, the relationship they had been in for five years to the day.

The silence was tangible, the lack of Johnny’s presence was tangible, the hole Taeyong felt in his chest instantly was tangible.

His vision was blurring and he started to sway where he stood. He stumbled over to the edge of the counter, gripping it tightly for balance as he started to fall apart. He dropped roughly to his knees and slumped against the cupboards. He buried his face in his shirt and tried to silence the mix of sobbing and hyperventilating.

His surroundings dropped out of his senses, and he found his face pressed against the cold laminate of the kitchen floor. He curled up in a ball and tried to make himself as small as possible, giving as little space as he could in his chest to the pain that was growing and threatening to radiate to every cell in his body. His breathing was ragged and he felt the puddle tears on the floor wet his hair and cheek. He wanted to pass out, to stop existing, to do anything to not feel this right now.

“Taeyong?” he heard a voice, but it seemed so far away, like a whisper heard deep in the woods.

He felt a warmth on his cheek, and his eyes cracked open. He saw Doyoung looking down at him, panic evident on his face. He was too weak to keep his eyes open as Doyoung brushed the tears away and pushed his hair off of his forehead.

He felt Doyoung pull him up, his extremities limp and numb and incapable of giving any sort of help. Before he knew what was even happening, he was in Doyoung’s arms, being carried away. Somehow, even in his desolation, it was almost funny to him how strong Doyoung was to be able to lift and carry him with such ease.

They had made it to the doorway of the bedroom Taeyong and Johnny once shared. Doyoung was about to pass through when Taeyong let out an almost inaudible mumble of protest. Doyoung stopped and looked down at him.

“Not here… please… not here…” his voice nothing but a gravelly whisper.

There was a flash of pain in Doyoung’s eyes, mimicking that in Taeyong’s, as he looked down at him. Taeyong closed his again as Doyoung looked up and started walking again.

Taeyong expected him to take him out to the living room and leave him on the couch, but he was somewhat bewildered when he felt soft sheets and fluffy pillows underneath him. His eyes fluttered open to look at Doyoung, realizing he had brought Taeyong to his own room, his own bed.

“I don’t think you should be alone tonight… I mean… If that’s okay…” Doyoung stuttered, a faint blush crossing his cheeks, unnoticed and invisible to Taeyong in the darkness.

At this point, he was too tired, too broken, to care. And if he admitted it to himself he was kind of grateful that Doyoung didn’t leave him to the mercy of his own pain for the entire night. He didn’t say anything, just curled up on the far side of the bed and buried his face in one of the pillows.

He felt Doyoung crawl in next to him and pull the comforter up over both of them. He delicately tucked the blanket around Taeyong’s shoulders, making sure he was as warm and safe as he could be at that moment. His hand lingered for a moment, and he gently brushed Taeyong’s hair out of his face for the second time that night. Taeyong felt his cheeks burning, but it was a sensation he couldn’t even begin to process given the events of the night.

As worn out and exhausted as he was, he felt himself falling quickly into a deep sleep. As he slipped out of consciousness, he could have sworn he felt Doyoung roll over closer. He could’ve sworn he felt himself being pulled up against Doyoung’s chest. Could’ve sworn he felt Doyoung’s arm draped over his stomach, tenderly holding him close. But that was something he’d have to think about tomorrow.


End file.
